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Karen Gillan

I am far from being a professional writer. Some people actually like what I write, which continues to amaze me. I do favour the macabre, my stories often featuring a gruesome end for one of many of my characters. I am no good at fantasy, story wise of course give me a beautiful american, Karen Gillan a Nun’s outfit and a stick of Celery and I can fantasise all day!

Sex on wheels.. no?

I digress I have been challenged to write different genres, sci-fi and more recently romance. Now I class myself as a romantic kinda guy, the candles, moonlight, diamonds and poetic serenades have all played a part in my life. But writing romance for me is proving very difficult.

OK so it’s going to be published here. So I try therefore to keep it under 1000 words, otherwise no-one will read it. So that gives me a thousand words to establish at least two likeable (a stretch for me) characters who you dear reader will be championing, wondering will they, won’t they, but knowing that they will for it is a Romance after all. Believable dialog is also required along with some kind of tension that allows me to twist and turn.

Trouble is, everything I have tried so far is cliché central. “She looked deep into his steely grey eyes and trembled” OK not quite but close. I don’t want trembling in my story, not lips or knees (I have enough trouble standing as it is) I want strong characters. It’s too easy to write about a bewildered woman who cannot exist without a man. I don’t believe these women actually exist (if they do my email is in the about section.. just saying)

I know these stories are supposed to pander to a fantasy. A fantasy where the dragons and wizards are replaced with perfect men who’s farts smell of roses and has baby soft skin with the talent for fucking, sorry “making love” that rivals Neymars skills with a football. The rose tinted quest continues.

As the weather has been somewhat depressing. In April (thanks world) I thought I’d write about something that cheers me up. Something that has been a bit of an obsession since my fascination started aged 7 with Cilla Black. From Cilla to Kirsty MacColl to Karen Gillan. The obsession. The Redhead.

This has been exasperated by the fiction of Ed McBain who featured pert breasted redheaded maidens in almost every novel. The Flintstones with Wilma, Family Guy with Lois, Daphne on Scooby Doo, hell even Princess Fiona in Shrek. Animators would appear to have a bigger obsession than me.

I don’t really know what it is, is sensitivity to UV a turn on. I hope not. Maybe I like the challenge, less than 2% of the worlds population is currently crimson topped. So I have the odds stacked against me if this was my only criteria for finding a mate. That and my good looks, general good health, wit and mastery of speeling and grammar”

Maybe I like the fact that the redhead stands out, without trying, in most cases. As do I. OK now I do due to my “Jesus/Hobo tribute combo” but before I was beardy I was a pretty un-remarkable looking guy. The sticks make you stand out. People stand back, the old ones I had made a clicking noise on the floor which made it impossible to stalk anyone (Redhead or otherwise) I am always even for only fleeting seconds, centre of attention.

I do also have a love of “different” redhead dye jobs are in fashion now. But as a child of 80’s I come from a time where being red was covered up. So it took a brave girl or boy to buck the trend and go au natural. A quality which I admire, a big middle finger up to convention, what is expected. I will do what I want. In the 80’s/90’s a natural redhead was (even if not by nature) feisty. I have always liked feisty.

There are a good few redheaded bloggers out there. A few which I have found and followed due to me searching “Redhead” in the wordpress reader, such is my obsession. Somebody help me….

I’m absolutely terrible. Amy Pond has just found out that Rory the Centurion has been protecting her for 2000 years. A wonderfully written and touching story, but can someone please explain to me why I am sat watching it with tears streaming down my face. It’s TV. Not only that it’s TV I’ve seen before. Alas it’s not only Doctor Who.

Martin Clunes (him off Men Behaving Badly) recently narrated a documentary for ITV called the Secret Life of Dogs. Now anyone who knows me or has read this here bit of cyber space for any considerable amount of time knows I love my dogs. I would suggest anyone give it a watch. (I can’t believe I am recommending anything on ITV) There are some really heart wrenching stories about how people relate to their dogs. This again caused me to well up.

At football. As a celebration of last seasons successes (we won the league!) the PA guys have put the below video together…

This, if I’m not careful, gets me too. I however have to keep my shit together cos I’m in public grr manly man.

Just what is wrong with me. When I was a teen I wasn’t tearful, OK I was quite whingey little bastard when I was small, but I was me. I had lots to be upset about! Am I releasing some kind of female hormone? That comment isn’t as sexist as it sounds. Am I less of a man because I have a compulsion to cry at things? I feel a bit of a fool, but it’s natural to me so who says I can’t show a bit of emotion.

I suppose I could suppress it and in 20 years come back and murder my family… yeah cos thats better.

The Angels have taken New York, and I’ll try to write another Doctor Who related piece without any spoilers for the millions who haven’t seen it yet (cos they ALL read my blog) But it is well documented that Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill were leaving life on the TARDIS behind to pursue other acting roles.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I mean after all this is TV and I am macho man. But Mr Mofatt you did it again, blub mode was engaged. This episode features several bits where you will go “What? How did that..” but people if you think hard enough everything is explained. Most of it by the standard “timey-wimey spacey wacey” but explained none the less.

Amelia Pond, first companion of the Moffat era, child chef of fish fingers and custard. Adult Flame haired sex pot (ok my weakness for redheads instantly made me warm to her) she has been through the mill during her time with Doctor, aged, met her daughter as an adult before she met her as a baby, went blind, was a goo like generation of herself, married a centurion, put up with a man in a fez.

Amy and Rory. Much better than any TV romance in history, c’mon Rory waited two thousand years for her. Most guys complain whilst they are waiting for ‘er indoors to get her knickers untwisted. TWO THOUSAND years! How? Spacey…

In my previous piece on the Doctor I wrote that Oswin the new companion was already a interesting character. If she is half as interesting as Amy it’s gonna be a hell of a ride.

No spoliers sweetie… hmm just watch it already!

This episode teaches us, it’s dangerous to read books, cherubs aren’t always cute and the statue of liberty isn’t very pretty close up. People will complain about this conclusion, as to compare it to previous companion exits it’s not as “paint by numbers” as before. It would seem that people hate TV they have to think about. Unless it’s American, then it can be as confusing as you like!

Most genuine Whovians will love this, as it is a great end to two great characters. Tennant era fan boys will hate it. I don’t care. Bring on Christmas, for three things. Turkey, Roast Potatoes and the Doctor.

It had been a long day, I’d been at work and for a desk jockey like me Saturday working is a very strange experience but as it turns out I kinda liked it, 100% less cretins and office politics. Was tiring though not aided by the fact i’d woken up at 5 am. So at 7:25pm I was severely lacking in stamina.

Thanks to the magic of twitter, I had found out at my desk (all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy) that the Doctor was to make his return that very every evening. Event television, something broadcasters used to be good at. Now it’s “great show, how far can you dilute the storyline so it goes over 5 consecutive nights for the rest of eternity.” Doctor Who has always been, unplug the phone, duct tape the cat to the ceiling TV in my house. Saturdays episode was no exception.

The Daleks. Perhaps the most over used enemy in whovian history. Were purposely given time off by Steven Moffat. Yet here they are again however they have been given a fresh twist (one that’s a damn slight better than them flying, Mr T Davies) they want the doctors help. As should be known by most of you the beautifully talented Karen Gillan is leaving the series at Christmas, to be replaced by Jenna Louise Coleman. I’m pleased, you see I’m a geek, women avoid me like they would chlamydia so I need attractive doctor companions, they cheer my very core. Anyway I digress. Previous companion changes have been somewhat clunky. Rose Tyler to Martha Jones springs to mind, a character so two dimensional I’m surprised the Doctor didn’t get a paper cut when he touched her.

Oswin, as we will call her for that is her name. The new companion we already know after one episode is a sassy sexy genius (and I’m trying very hard iPlayer viewers and overseas readers not to give you any spoilers) But she already has the kinda backstory that would put Twilight to shame.

It has been pointed out to me that this as series opener was considerably lighter in tone than previous series. No bad thing. Saturday work is great thing to make you look forward to excellently written and performed TV drama. Please let Mr Moffat write everything.. even the news. Bring on next week and the “Dinosaurs on a spaceship !”

In the UK catch the Doctor if you missed him here.
Elsewhere, wait your turn. Or find yourself a TARDIS and transport yourself to whenever it airs.

Like this:

Yesterday my beloved Apple Inc launched the latest iPhone. The iPhone 4S. A speed bump, with a new camera and air play capabilities and more besides. Well on the face of it it’s not bad, I won’t be getting one. Largely because I am tied into my contract with 3 and I’m not gonna sell my Grandma to get my hands on this.

On the 28th April 2010 Apple brought Siri, a company founded in 2007. One selling point of the iPhone 4S is Siri integration. The technology is amazing, Siri is a voice commanded digital personal assistant, a secretary without the short skirt and stockings… (shame) Siri recognises what you are saying and can schedule appointments, tell you the weather, read your messages and listen to you dictate replies and send them for you. As I say all amazing technology, I remember the early voice recognition stuff, you had to train it, even then it wouldn’t understand what you said, it often had to be used in environment which you shared with only deathly silence. Microsoft attempted to demo this and failed.

Fast forward a few years and Microsoft have succeeded, as anyone who has ever said “X Box Play DVD” will tell you. I even have a dictation app on my iPhone 4, it is very good, it is free and if I’m not drunk it understands me. I think it wishes I wasn’t drunk quite so often, so it had a fighting chance.

Going back in time once more, forgive me for more time travel than your average episode of Doctor Who in this piece… (hmmm maybe an excuse for a pic of Karen Gillan.) In the Late 70’s all the way through the 80’s. A conversation the world over:-

“Please leave your message after the beep.” said a metallic voice.

BEEP

“Oh no, not one of these, urm I hate talking to these things… pick up if your….”
BEEP

Then the tape would run out or catch fire. The hatred of the answer machine remains, even though we have progressed to voice mail, which has none of the tape issues. You still have to record a greeting, and even with advent of personalised greetings there is still the risk your potential new boss will here the personal message meant for your wife’s sister about your huge member….ship of the bridge club.. What!

Karen Gillan.. with some other bloke.. think he might play The Doctor. Kidding the wonderfully talented Matt Smith

So how does 1980’s tech relate to Karen Gillan and Siri. No matter how good Siri is and it is the best system I have ever seen of it’s type. It is still a machine, flesh and blood human beings such as Karen Gillan feel like a berk talking to a machine, and as much as those folks with the bluetooth headsets will say otherwise, if your out and about talking to Siri or even Karen Gillan, other people you encounter will think you are crazy fool talking to yourself.